


Let Justice Roll Down

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Series: The Pacemakers [10]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Culture, Family Dynamics, Negotiations, Pack Dynamics, Political Alliances, Pre-Earth Transformers, War Era, council meetings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Among Minibots, it's traditional that a group of five or six will form a "pace", adopting each other as kin and swearing an oath to remain that way as long as they're functioning.A darkness is falling over all of Cybertron, tearing cities apart from the inside. Brawn and his household have remained untouched by the outside world for so long, but that time has run out. They cannot hide. The bloodshed is coming for them.





	Let Justice Roll Down

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place many years after [Bloodguilt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9799619/chapters/22005194), so I suggest reading that first if you get confused. 
> 
> NOTE: Without reading the first six books in this series, you'll receive **multiple spoilers** in this one! 
> 
> Pace - A company or herd of mules; in my headcanon, a family of Minibots; also a traditional expectation and an honor among Minibots who form one.
> 
> One/Unuceim - the first Minibot to agree to join the proposer's pace; Sequein - the second to agree to join; Trilitare - the third to agree to join; Quanidre - the fourth to agree to join; Quiendus - the fifth to agree to join.
> 
> Culumexian - the form of Cybertronian spoken by residents of Culumex, the Minibot city on Cybertron, or the residents themselves.

High Councilor Vilicus scanned each of his fellow Council members intently, lightly drumming his fingertips against the heavy chrome tabletop before him. It wasn’t out of impatience or annoyance—simply a way of grounding himself, of suppressing the growing anxiety he was sensing from his comrades. It wasn’t working very well, he noted, thanks to everything General Traachon was saying.

“Why should we share our city with these refugees?” he sneered. “Vos and Tarn have done nothing for us but stir dissension and try to lure us into taking sides!”

“It’s the will of the people that we help them,” Xaaron shot back, pressing his palms flat against the table and leaning toward the derisive general. “It was due to _your_ unwillingness to act that we allowed Vos and Tarn to raze each other, wasn’t it? Didn’t you, in your infinite wisdom, bother to consider that the survivors might turn to the nearest city-state for help?”

Tomaandi, sitting next to the stiffening general, chuckled nervously and opened his mouth to speak, but the femme on his other side cut in before he could. “The Vosnians and Tarnians are not our scheduled topic,” she announced fiercely, accentuating the words with a flick of her data pad.

“Yet it always comes back to them, doesn’t it?” Traachon huffed, narrowing his optics at Xaaron, who met the glare unflinchingly.

“Our scheduled topic,” she continued, ignoring the tension, “is this band of rebels that have been making their way across Cybertron. From what I’ve heard, it’s gathering something of a following. The smaller city-states have surrendered to them and those that haven’t…”

“Yes, we _all_ know what happened to Crystal City,” Xaaron sighed, shaking his helm ruefully. “A tragedy, to be sure.”

“But worse yet, the projections show that this rebellion is making its way toward the Tri-Peninsular Torus States. From there, they might have the audacity to come to us.”

Traachon glanced at her incredulously, leaning back in his chair with a light laugh. “Don’t tell me you _fear_ them!”

“No,” Vilicus answered for her, drawing the others’ attentions. “But we must be prepared for them if they do intend to strike Iacon. We must draw together…a united front, a gathering larger than what these rebels have.”

“Do you believe my soldiers won’t—won’t _suffice?!_ ” Traachon demanded angrily, half-rising from his chair.

“No,” Vilicus shot him down a second time, flat and to the point. “If one of the Omega Sentinels could not protect Crystal City from destruction, we need to assume that any preparations we make won’t suffice. It wouldn’t be wise to fight them alone.”

“What are you suggesting?” Tomaandi inquired, spreading his hands expectantly. “Vos and Tarn have been destroyed and its refugees are weak; _they_ rely on _us_. Kaon is ravaged, Polyhex is secluded, and the Tri-Torus States pay us no mind, nor do the smaller states surrounding them!”

“They will if we show an interest in their wealth,” Vilicus pointed out, rising and flicking on a holo-projector which displayed a map over the table. “Praxus has one of the finest police forces this side of Cybertron. Polyhex is renowned for its medics, the Tagan Heights for its industrial output, and Culumex…well, who knows what _they_ have to offer? We’re a city of opportunity. We send word for the cities to bring their best work here, show us their specialties, and if it may benefit us in the event of a fight, we employ them, strike up trades, and use the materials to their fullest advantage.”

“It would unite them,” Traachon mused, interest sparking in his optics. “Unite each of the cities to our side, if not to each other’s.”

“But would we be doing this to unite them or to spy on them?” Xaaron countered. “When you say ‘use’ them to our advantage, do you mean as scapegoats? Distractions? _Sacrifices_ to the rebels?”

“Of course not!” Vilicus scoffed, as if the very idea was ludicrous. “I’m suggesting that Iacon needs to be forming friendships; the nearest city-states are as good as any!”

“Yes…” their scheduler agreed with a snide smile. “We allow the lower castes from other cities come and show how they contribute. If we make them feel included, valuable, perhaps we can settle this disquiet. Isn’t equality what the rebels are fighting for? It will be the placation they need; we can stay their discontent before it goes any further.”

“Something of a…Trade Conference,” Xaaron submitted reluctantly, earning thoughtful nods all around.

“We are agreed then?” Vilicus prompted, flashing his biolights in an agreeable vote.

An array of colors flickered across the table as the others flashed theirs as well. Xaaron was the last, hesitating for several kliks before squaring his shoulders and dimming his biolights against them.

“Stubborn to the last,” Vilicus sighed, his tone almost fond. “Your vote has been outweighed. We arrange the Conference. Tomaandi, contact the liaisons for Polyhex and Altihex. Traachon, Praxus and the Tagan Heights. Xaaron, you’re contacting Protihex and Uraya…”

The assignments went on from there, but just as Vilicus was rising to dismiss them, General Traachon spoke up again. “And Culumex? Are we including the little fellows in the trade?”

“Naturally, though I’ll have to contact them myself. Their capitol is on the other side of the city and all communications are vetted through their military. They would probably redirect a communication that wasn’t from the highest authority,” Vilicus explained. He didn’t mean that as an insult to the others, but he couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of pride when a few of them scowled.

“Should we even bother?” Xaaron muttered, apparently determined to disagree. “You said yourself that we have no idea what they can offer to us.”

Vilicus sent him a chiding look that lasted several kliks before glancing back up at the map and the cities spanning it. “What better chance to find out?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're finding this interesting! Please drop a comment and let me know what you think! :D


End file.
